


Don't Call Me That

by lunick



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mentions of the rest of the team but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunick/pseuds/lunick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares and waking up with Tajima hogging your mattress are just a part of golden week training camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Me That

It’s the second year of training camp, and sleeping in that little room and sharing futons with the team has, thankfully, gotten much easier.

They aren’t forced into switching partners every night, but it’s not like anyone on the team really cares who they sleep next to (barring Abe, who forces Mihashi into sleeping between him and the wall so Mizutani or Tajima won’t kick him in their sleep by accident). Though, Tajima seems to have other plans of who to sleep next to this week anyway: for the third night in a row, he’s sleeping next to Hanai like it’s nothing.

It’s probably something about being in an unfamiliar location, but Hanai always seems to have nightmares during training camp: it happened last year, on the second day (oddly enough, Tajima was sleeping next to him that night also). This time, it’s actually about baseball, about getting injured in a game, about totally blowing it for everyone and ruining their chances at doing well, about it being their last year to go to Koshien—

Hanai startles awake, the weight of a head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest making him break from his nightmarish sleep. He blinks his eyes open, rubbing at them with his hand — it was just a dream. He shifts, trying to sit up, but that person is still on him. He looks down and squints through his tired eyes at the dark and realizes… it’s Tajima, and he’s smiling in his sleep like a goddamn dog dreaming about chasing a car.

He gulps, but he doesn’t know why — why did I just do that, he asks himself, trying to slide his arm from under the clean up hitter. The skin feels like it’s burning where Tajima was resting, and it only gets worse as he tries to move away, because he grabs at his arm in his sleep and presses his face against it. Hanai hisses out a breath, his face burning so red he swears he’s like a light in the 2 AM darkness.

Is he just supposed to let it be? He doesn’t think he can sleep with the shorter boy hanging off of him, especially not with the way it’s making his chest burn. He swallows hard, god, he’s acting like such an idiot. Just shake the kid off, even if it means waking him up, if he’s going to cling to you he deserves to be woken up for being a crappy bedmate. He shifts to the side a bit, his legs against the sheets the only noise in the room, and presses his free hand to Tajima’s shoulder, pushing him away. His heart pounds in his ears as the clean up wakes up, just barely, his eyes like slits as he rubs the sleep from them. He yawns, blinks a few times, and sits up.

“Is it morning already?” His voice is worn and creaky.

“No,” Hanai mumbles. His voice isn’t much more than a hoarse whisper.

“Why’d you wake me up!” The sleep is leaving him, if Hanai doesn’t quiet him down soon, he’ll wake the whole damn room—

“You were hanging off me like some kind of…” He can’t think of a proper analogy. “Some kind of… something!”

“Eh? So what?”

The captain presses his lips together, totally embarrassed. So what — Tajima doesn’t give a crap. Tajima doesn’t care that he was so close to him, why should he have cared? Why did it make his heart bump against his ribcage and make his lungs lose all the air in them and make his skin burn? He clenches his jaw.

“Nothing,” he says, his tone sharper than necessary, as he starts to turn the other way. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hey, Hanai.” Hanai can hear the sound of Tajima scooting over, closer to him.

“What?” He can practically feel the body heat radiating off of him.

“Turn back around.”

His eyes widen and his fingers tremble in embarrassment, and anger at being so embarrassed, because really, what the hell does he have to be embarrassed about? He blows out a breath through his mouth and turns his head around, propping himself up on one elbow and looking over his shoulder.

“What is it?”

Tajima gives him a look as serious at he can manage, though it really just ends up looking like a pout not unlike one a five year old would have, before jabbing a finger down to the floor. “All the way around, Azusa!”

“Don’t—” Don’t call me that, he’s going to say. He drags his hand down his face, god, it’s way too early for this. “Don’t call me that,” he mumbles as he turns, his eyes half lidded in some kind of defeat, and — whoa. Tajima is really close, Hanai presses his head into his pillow a bit more, frowning in a way that is probably supposed to be reprimanding. But the frown slides off his lips as the clean up smiles a bit and ducks his head under the captain’s chin, burying his nose into the latter’s chest and sliding his arms around his torso.

“What are you— !”

“It’s cold, captain.”

“That doesn’t mean…” Tajima must be able to feel how hot his skin is, even through his shirt. He’s practically sweating with how red his face is.

“You’re warm, Hanai,” the freckled boy says, his words coming out muffled from his smiling mouth. Hanai realizes his arms are up in the air, his fingers curling up against his palms, his knuckles practically brushing the bottoms of the feet of the person above him on the floor. His chest feels like it’s locked up and he can’t really get any air in or out, he’s going to suffocate like this, he’s going to be found dead with Tajima wrapped around his waist (there are probably worse ways to die, he thinks but quickly banishes the thought)—

“You okay?”

The third baseman is looking up at him, the tip of his nose just barely touching the bottom of Hanai’s chin. He blinks, and then sets his jaw and swallows, letting his arms come down to rest on his teammate’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine. This is just for tonight, got it? This isn’t going to become a regular thing.” Even if he wishes it would, he knows it can’t — it just doesn’t work that way.

“Mhm, whatever you say, Azusa.” His words are already tired again, and tinged with a grin, like he knows Hanai is lying and he’s calling his bluff.

“Don’t…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing—”

“I like it,” He laughs a little bit here. It’s a quiet, subdued laugh, something that the captain didn’t even know he was capable of. He can feel the smaller boy’s fingers curling against his spine. “You should call me Yuuichirou, okay? Then we’re even.”

Hanai sucks in a breath through his mouth and holds it for a minute, maybe just to confirm that the burning in his chest isn’t from a lack of oxygen, before blowing it out. They’re familiar enough for that, right? They’re teammates, and rivals, and — no, he’s not even going to go there. He’s quiet for a long time, and Tajima is already drifting off.

“Good night, Azusa.”

It’s silent for only a few moments, where no one seems to be breathing, or moving, or doing anything. It’s like the whole damn world is standing still and he’s not sure how he feels about that and he just knows that his mouth and his vocal cords and his tongue are all moving on their own and working against him, because he says “good night, Yuuichirou,” without even realizing it, and he’s really not sure if he wishes he were still dreaming or not.


End file.
